Our new long-termer is something of a contrarian. In a world pivoting to SUVs and embracing new-energy powertrains, Mercedes-Benz has cocked a snook at convention (and its rivals) with a sedan powered by only petrol and diesel engines that has emerged as India’s bestselling luxury car. Ahead of the BMW iX1, which is both an SUV and electric. This is the E-Class, confident in its own shiny skin, secure in knowing exactly what its customers value. That confidence is reflected in its phenomenal appeal, and after a few weeks with our long-termer, it’s not hard to understand why.

Our long-termer is the E220d, powered by Mercedes’ 2.0-litre four-cylinder diesel producing 194bhp and 440Nm, now paired with a 48-volt mild-hybrid system, which includes a 17kW integrated starter-generator that can contribute up to 27PS of boost for short bursts. It’s not a full hybrid; think of it more as a sophisticated electrical assistant that smoothens out the powertrain’s rougher edges and improves efficiency. To get properly acquainted, I whisked it away for a quiet weekend to Mahabaleshwar. Quiet being the operative word.

Switch on the E220d and close your eyes. You’d be hard-pressed to identify it as an oil-burner. The refinement is, frankly, shocking. There’s no diesel clatter at idle, no thrum at speed, no drone near the redline. The only giveaway is a modest 4,500rpm ceiling on the tacho. In every other sense, the smoothness, linearity of delivery, and noise levels make it feel uncannily petrol-like. It’s a reminder of just how extraordinarily far Mercedes has pushed diesel refinement, particularly for a four-cylinder unit. This engine would embarrass many a six-pot.

The mild-hybrid assist does its job quietly and unobtrusively, exactly as it should. You don’t feel it intervening so much as notice its absence on the rare occasion it isn’t. The transitions in and out of the starter-generator’s assistance are seamless, and it takes the jagged edge off urban stop-start driving in a way that older diesels simply couldn’t.

What you won’t find, however, is that addictive, locomotive mid-range surge that once made diesel cars so characterful. Modern emissions hardware like SCR catalysts, AdBlue injection and particulate filters has smoothened the power curve to the point of near-flatness, and the mild-hybrid assist completes that smoothening job. Speaking of AdBlue, the top-up alert that came on is a reminder that modern diesels are essentially rolling chemistry labs, neutralising NOx emissions on the fly. The price of clean air is complexity.

The E220d is genuinely brisk, but it doesn’t feel urgent. It wafts past slow-moving trucks on NH66 rather than blasting through gaps. Effortless is the word, but occasionally, you want it to be more forceful. On the many single-lane stretches of NH66 – a sign of how catastrophically unfinished this so-called national highway remains – a brutal, more characterful diesel shove would be welcome.

NH66 is, without exaggeration, the worst major highway I have driven on in India. Badly surfaced, perpetually incomplete, riddled with abrupt transitions between concrete and tarmac. It is, therefore, a superb acid test.

The E-Class passed with flying colours. On those undulating concrete slabs, the suspension absorbed inputs with a composure that bordered on magical; soft enough to feel pillowy on the straight-line slogs, yet controlled enough in body movement to feel entirely unruffled. That is the hardest balance to strike in suspension tuning, and Mercedes has nailed it here with steel springs and finely calibrated damping that mimics the waft of air suspension without the cost or complexity. The roadworks outside our Mumbai office – broken tarmac, deep ruts, misaligned surfaces – show off the E-Class’ suspension brilliance on a daily basis. The E220d mashes through it all with almost contemptuous ease. The E-Class has the best ride quality of any Mercedes this side of the S-Class, and is proof that sedans remain superior to SUVs in this regard.

The equivalent GLE, for reference, feels hard-edged and bumpy in comparison.

The run from Mahabaleshwar back to the Autocar HQ took a very swift 3 hours and 7 minutes, averaging 70kph, not counting a 20-minute halt at Pantree near Karnala for misal pav. Some stops are non-negotiable! The point is, the E-Class devoured the return journey with the kind of effortless, intergalactic cruising ability that makes long distances feel inconsequential.

The Ambenali ghat section delivered a surprise. Through those narrow, tight, elevation-shifting corners, the E220d displayed an agility that you simply don’t expect from a long-wheelbase luxury sedan.

Rear legroom is fantastic, but it wasn’t me who put the abundance of legroom to good use – it was my luggage. I don’t like my bags flying around the back of the boot, so I preferred wedging them behind the front seats. Now that’s what I call making good use of the extra legroom!

The hard-charging return drive hurt the numbers. For a diesel, 10.7kpl is modest, and clearly the mild-hybrid assist, which is calibrated more for smooth urban efficiency than hard highway charging, made little difference. A more relaxed right foot will do considerably better.

One persistent niggle remains. The steering-mounted touch controls remain frustratingly unresponsive, a grouse we’ve levelled at Mercedes for years, and one they’ve thankfully addressed in their newest-generation models.

The E220d makes no apologies for being old-fashioned in the best possible sense. It’s a sedan, it has a diesel engine with just enough electrification to sharpen its efficiency credentials, and it is magnificent at being all three. The bestseller badge is entirely deserved.

This is the long termer that elicits more long stares than anything in recent memory. Motorists at signals turn around and stare at the high bonnet, the deep-set headlights, the wide stance, and the chunky off-road tyres. And there’s no denying, the Rubicon has tons and tons of effortless attitude or swag. Even better, all the bravado is backed up with real ability. The great, great, great grandson of the off-roader that started it all – the Willys MB – the Rubicon is one of the more extreme versions of the current Wrangler. The question is, does it feel like a fish out of water in the urban sprawl? Or does it have a good balance of crazy-cool?

First up, what exactly do we have here? It’s a Wrangler, so it’s fair to call it one of the world’s best off-roaders. This means a body-on-frame construction, selectable four-wheel drive, locking differentials, anti-roll bars that can be disconnected for better wheel articulation and a dedicated off-road plus mode that optimises the vehicle in various conditions. Under the hood sits a petrol two-litre turbo four that puts out plenty of grunt. It makes an impressive 270hp and 400Nm of torque – more than the VW Golf GTI does from its own two-litre four. It even gets tougher, with uprated Dana 44 solid axles at both the front and rear. 

Talking dimensions, it’s almost two metres wide, has a seriously tall cabin and gets unique powered seats up front, with switches and motors that can even be submerged. And yeah, you can take the roof off, get rid of the doors, and even open out the entire rear section. To allow you easy ingress to the high cabin, this car also gets a JCBL-sourced electrically folding footstep… a massive boon.

Now understandably, in the city, all of this feels like overkill. Sort of like using a chainsaw to slice a loaf of bread, driving it on city streets initially feels like you are piloting a military-spec vehicle that wants to take U-turns over dividers. And, sat high on wide, arthropod-like limbs, the Rubicon feels like it wants to scale every traffic island and obstacle in its path. 

What you also have to get used to, and it takes a bit, is the almost two-metre width and the fact that the plastic-fendered wheel arches extend well past the bonnet. And then every time I get onto one of Mumbai’s open roads or intra-city freeways and hit around 90 or 100kph, it feels like a swarm of bees is on my tail. Believe me, I know the sound. Then there’s the fact that there isn’t much space in the back, the seats are low, and knock the roof above you or the one at the rear, and you realise they are made of fiberglass-reinforced plastic.

Now, with so many compromises to overcome, you’d think the Wrangler Rubicon would be poorly suited to the daily grind. Thing is, it isn’t so bad. First up, visibility is just fantastic, and you have a bird’s-eye view of the goings-on outside. Then, the engine really hits the spot. It delivers a nice, meaty shove above 2,500rpm, giving it tremendous agility. Tap the throttle once it is at these engine speeds, and it just shoots forward. Then the steering is nicely weighted and fluid, and the leather front seats are comfortable. 

It even rides superbly, the tyres and suspension both super absorbent and well damped. Secondary movements, as a result, remain very controlled, even over really bad sections. Tired of having to deal with bad roads, potholes and broken sections of tarmac, this is the antidote. You can fling it over just about anything, and the suspension and tyres will deal with all the blows, the chassis almost never getting tossed around. 

But the best bit, it makes you want to go out and drive trails and reach places you normally can’t access. Something we can’t resist doing; coming up next. 

We didn’t mention this last month as we bid farewell to our long-term A6, but its replacement was already waiting in the wings – none other than its smaller sibling, the A4. And immediately, I did something I rarely do anymore, and that was take it out of Mumbai on a highway run. Admittedly, it wasn’t anywhere particularly far – just to our old stomping ground of Lonavala, to attend the press drive of the MG Majestor you’ll have seen earlier on in this issue. But the Mumbai-Pune Expressway, plus some incredible (and familiar) mountain roads are a great way to acquaint oneself with a car. 

MG had asked us to be at Aamby Valley at 7am, which meant a pre-dawn departure from home. Empty roads led out of the city, the bright headlamps flooding the path ahead, and let’s just say broken roads are a lot better taken at higher speeds. 

Not that the A4’s suspension ever faltered; ride quality is one of this car’s highlights and it just eats up bad patches without complaint. It’s smooth and refined too, with the 204hp EA888 engine (quietly bumped up from 190hp sometime after 2021) allowed to wallow in its ample mid-range by the 7-speed dual-clutch gearbox.

I saw the onboard fuel economy reading climbing – 10, 12, 15kpl! – knowing I would probably never see these numbers again once I went back to my trafficky trudge. But while on the topic, one thing I’ve noticed about this A4 is that, in my purely gridlock driving conditions at least, it returns better fuel economy in Normal mode than in Efficiency, where the engine feels more strained. Curiously, the fuel efficiency hasn’t been quite as good as the larger, more powerful A6, and I’d put that down to that car’s more sophisticated 48V mild-hybrid system, versus this one’s simpler 12V system.

Back to the drive, I stopped for a cold coffee, and the early morning light revealed a few details I hadn’t noticed earlier. Black spokes on the 17-inch wheels (I wish they were a size larger; the suspension certainly allows for it), an Audi logo on the rear-right door (I love a bit of asymmetry) and a surprisingly business-like deck-lid spoiler on the boot. Turns out this car is from a limited run called the Signature Edition, which is no longer available. As such, it also gets an open-pore wood trim inside, Audi logos projected as puddle lamps and a 360deg camera. Sadly, the feed for said camera is rather grainy and distorted, and only gets worse at night.

Past Lonavala town and climbing up the mountain, I shifted into Dynamic mode; economy be damned. This is what I love about a well-balanced sedan. Good steering – nothing overly sharp, but well weighted and predictable – and a nice, robust-feeling chassis. Front-drive sedans have a charm of their own, and flicking up and down with the paddles let me keep it on the boil through the corners. We’ve come a long way since the overtly under-steery Audis of old. I parked up outside the venue and went in for a long day of shooting with the big MG.

When it was time to leave at around 4pm, the cabin was roasting, but I couldn’t help but think how much worse it would have been if the upholstery was all black. Audi has smartly chosen tan as the darker alternative to cream, which is a happy compromise between lightness and ease of maintenance. 

A bit of ventilation through the windows, and the AC was able to bring the temperature back down in no time. Exhaustion and being in the heat all day made for a far less enthusiastic drive home, so it’s a good thing the A4 can settle into a soothing cruise when you need it to. 

To address the elephant in the room – yes, it’s old. Fast approaching its tenth birthday in India, that it can still deliver a solid luxury car experience is testament to its strong fundamentals. In fact, like the A6, some of its most endearing features – tactile rotary AC knobs, simple but crisp digital dials, wood trim – are from an outgoing era of luxury cars. Are its direct rivals in India more accomplished? Yes, but they’re also roughly Rs 10 lakh more expensive these days. If its age is the only thing keeping you from an A4, maybe reconsider. Because it’s still a damn good luxury car.

The Tata Tiago EV has just joined our long-term fleet, and I wasted no time putting it to the test. My daily routine is a straightforward commute in Mumbai from Chembur to Byculla and back. It is predictable, and on paper, this compact EV fits that brief perfectly.

But I also drive to Pune every weekend to see my family, which is a challenge for a small EV with a relatively modest 24kWh battery pack. Especially when all I want is to get home quickly rather than stop to charge.

The Mumbai to Pune run is particularly tricky. While the roughly 150km distance is within the Tiago EV’s claimed capability, Friday traffic on the expressway is heavier, and the long uphill stretches do not help efficiency either. Curious to see how it would cope, I decided to give it the full treatment and came away genuinely surprised.

With its 24kWh battery pack, we at Autocar India have tested a real-world range of around 187km on a full charge in mixed conditions. Stop-go traffic, lower speeds, and regenerative braking all work in its favour. Highways, though, are a completely different story. Sustained speeds between 80kph and 100kph drain energy far quicker, and the Mumbai-Pune route only makes things tougher. It is not just the distance, but also the climb towards Lonavala and the ghats that constantly demand power.

I set off at around 5pm from the office with a full charge and a fair bit of curiosity. Getting onto the Atal Setu, the Tiago EV, cruising at 80kph to 100kph, did see the battery percentage drop quickly, and at the back of my mind, I was constantly calculating the drop against distance covered to make sure I would complete the run on a single charge. The first half of the drive was reassuring. The battery was dropping, but not alarmingly so, and it felt like the target was within reach. What stood out immediately was how comfortable the car felt at highway speeds. It never felt out of its depth.

As I approached the ghats, I expected the strain to show – not just in the battery percentage, but also in performance, given the electric motor makes 75PS. To my surprise, power was never an issue. There is enough for climbs, and I never felt like I was pushing it too hard. The torque delivery is linear and predictable, making it easy to maintain momentum. Through the sweeping bends, the car felt planted and stable.

Ride comfort was another pleasant surprise. The Tiago EV has a soft suspension setup that works wonderfully at low speeds, but even on the highway, it held its own. It felt forgiving and comfortable. Yes, sharp edges and sudden undulations can catch it out, but beyond that, there is little to complain about. What did become noticeable at higher speeds, though, was cabin insulation. There is more road and wind noise than I would like, and over a long drive, that does take away from the sense of refinement.

The ghat section did have an impact on the battery. After the climb, it dropped to around 20 percent, and I still had some distance to go. That is when I eased off, became gentler with the throttle, and focused on conserving energy. At around 15 percent, the car starts conserving energy. There is a noticeable drop in power, and even the air conditioning cuts out to save charge – not the best situation to be in the middle of summer.

Those last few kilometres into Pune were tense. I was constantly watching the range and battery percentage, recalculating whether I would make it. It was not the most relaxed way to drive, but that was part of the experiment. And importantly, I did make it! The Tiago EV completed the Mumbai to Pune run on a single charge with around 10 percent battery to spare.

Now that I have done this drive once, I know what to expect, and that makes a big difference. The next time will be far less stressful because I understand how the car behaves and where I need to adapt my driving. That is the thing with EVs. The first time brings range anxiety, but once you understand the pattern, it largely disappears.

What this drive has shown me is that while the Tiago EV is not built for highways, it is far more capable than I initially gave it credit for. At the same time, its limitations are clear. A larger battery would make highway runs far more comfortable, and better cabin insulation would improve long-distance refinement.

For now, though, it has made a strong first impression. It may be a city car at heart, but it is not afraid to step outside its comfort zone.

After a couple of months with our long-term Porsche Taycan Turbo, I’ve said goodbye to it, feeling really sad for Porsche. Because I’m now utterly convinced Porsche makes the best high-performance EVs, and yet customers globally have given the brand’s electric range a thumbs down. The Taycan, in particular, has been shunned, with slowing sales and tumbling resale values, which is a real shame. The best thing about the Taycan is that it feels like a Porsche first and then an EV, not the other way around, and that nuanced difference is what makes it so special.

The thing with most EVs is that they’re generally one-dimensional; it’s all about brutal acceleration delivered in a very linear, characterless way. Live with the Taycan for a while, though, and it’s the finer details that eventually hook you. 

The secret of the Taycan’s brilliance is all about calibration and feel. Sure, the acceleration is cheek-flattening and supercar-slaying, but that’s true of plenty of high-performance EVs. What makes the Taycan different is the way it delivers all those kilowatts. The shove isn’t a solid, flat-line surge; it has an upward slope that makes you feel like you’re winding an engine to max revs, and the extra ratio in the transmission gives you that distinct sensation of a shift into a higher gear. It’s this painstaking effort to make the Taycan feel as ICE-like as possible that forms the core of its character.

The brakes, too, feel wonderfully natural and aren’t ruined by aggressive regeneration. Porsche clearly doesn’t use one-pedal regen trickery for range. The Taycan essentially gives you two main recuperation modes – on and off, plus an Auto function. The steering is wonderfully fluent, accurate and full of feel – the sort of steering that makes you hunt for a longer way home. Sound? In Sport and Sport Plus, you get a deeper electric warble. It’s no flat six, but Porsche has kept it convincingly ‘electric’ and resisted the temptation to layer on gimmicky, artificial noise. That’s what I love about the Taycan – the genuineness. It isn’t pretending to be something it isn’t.

The ride and handling are incredible for a car that weighs around 2.3 tonnes, which makes what it can do on a winding road all the more impressive. The ride is shockingly pliant – more plush than many so-called luxury cars – yet it flicks through corners like it’s a 911 that’s been plugged into the mains. 

At our annual Track Day, the Taycan – this very car – came embarrassingly close to the 911 Carrera GTS’s lap time, and it did it all with far less drama. And maybe that’s the problem: the Taycan doesn’t have the noise, theatre or iconic status of its ICE brethren, and it’s struggling to break out of that shadow.

Our Taycan has had a relentlessly busy time with us, pressed into all sorts of duties. It proved that an EV with proper range can do Mumbai to Goa in about the same time as an ICE Panamera. The secret sauce of the updated car is its new battery and powertrain package, which brings more power, more range and faster charging. 

Range, in our experience, has been phenomenal, and a long-overdue Maha test proved just how good it is. Pushing the Taycan hard and uphill, I got to Mahabaleshwar with 39 percent charge left – well outside the range-anxiety zone. 

On long drives, you start to appreciate the niceties: the spot-on driving position, the great outside visibility, and a digital instrument cluster that’s crisp, legible and refreshingly simple to use – easily one of the best digital clusters in the business.

What’s not to like? Too many touch panels and too few proper buttons. The air-con is buried in the touchscreen, including vent direction, which is a needless faff on the move. The fixed panoramic roof with no shade is another miss for India. In Mahabaleshwar during the Holi break, which marks the onset of summer, the Taycan’s glass roof turned the cabin into a pizza oven in the afternoon sun, and there’s only so much the climate control can fight.

And finally, soon after it came to us, it threw up a ‘steering assistance fault’ error, which Porsche was quick to rectify. But such a failure is, frankly, a blot on reliability.

Otherwise, I’m really, genuinely going to miss the Taycan. It has been amazingly versatile, shatteringly quick, and above all, quintessentially Porsche.

For the past two months, my long-term cars have been all about the rear-seat experience. Previously, I had the MG Windsor, whose sofa-like rear seats really impressed my wife and kids, and this month, it’s the turn of the Kia Syros. Here, too, the rear seating area is really a highlight. There’s ample space on offer; it’s not just headroom, there’s plenty of legroom too, even without considering the Syros’ sub-4-metre footprint.

Then there’s the amenities: roller sun blinds that are nicely shaped and don’t leave odd gaps, an in-cabin air purifier, an armrest with cupholders, two rear AC vents, two type-C USB ports with a phone holder, and a panoramic sunroof that, along with a light upholstery shade, really gives the cabin a bright and airy feel. And then, of course, you have the seats themselves. Sliding, reclining and cooled too (only the base, but that’s better than nothing, and it does work quite effectively).

My family really did like the car, and we’ve driven a lot inside the city, but that has also highlighted its firm ride. The Syros is quite stiffly sprung, which is needed to manage its tall height. So, it’s not really plush and cushy, as the upright and non-sporty body style would lead you to believe. 

Which brings me to the very first thing that strikes you when you see the Syros – its exterior styling. When I first reviewed the car, I said the styling was very quirky and ‘would displease some’. Turns out it’s a lot more than just some. Given all its talents, the Syros should really be doing so much better on the showroom floors. The first-generation Hyundai Santro, too, was never a beauty – not to me at least – but its long list of merits really won everyone over. And that should be the case with the Syros too. There’s just so much to love. 

There’s the entire rear-seat experience, which we’ve just spoken of, but the experience at the front too is very pleasing, with a very high-quality cabin. And, unlike the exterior, the interior design should find more favour. Okay, it has a squircle steering wheel and an off-centre Kia logo, but there’s no arguing its feel and utility, with its easy-to-use buttons and scroll wheels. And what I really like is the presence of the drive mode button right on the wheel itself. 

The twin screens look great, the Harman/Kardon music system sounds lovely and my daughter really loved the interior colour scheme, which has a youthful palette with some lively offset colour accents. Speaking of whom, she did not like the outside door handles and actually said I must write about them; so here goes. They are the pop-out type, except that they don’t pop out automatically, and my daughter found that you require a bit more force than normal to pop them out, after which, of course, you have to pull to open the door. So yes, just like every other pop-out handle, it only complicates life for some limited novelty factor.

Back inside, I particularly like the cube-like gear knob, which easily falls to hand and looks neat with the dual-tone design, the orange accent and the illuminated P-R-N-D indicator. What surprised me was the wireless charging pad. It’s like a raised platform, and while there are two sleeves to hold your phone within, it looks like your phone would come sliding off. My phone never did, however, thanks to the grippy surface area and the fact that I’ve always been driving it in a relaxed manner in the city. It’s not because of a lazy engine; the 1.0 T-GDi engine puts out 120hp and 172Nm and is paired with the DCT autobox. In our initial tests, we clocked a 0-100kph time of 11.63 seconds in Sport mode. So, it’s quick, but the seating position and overall vibe of the car somehow always put me in a relaxed and laid-back state of mind. While we’re on the engine, fuel efficiency isn’t its strong point. Over the months we’ve had the Syros, it returned an average of 9.2kpl, and that’s nearly all in the city.

Overstyled and underrated. That’s the real sum of the Kia Syros. It’s a car you might overlook, but if you give it a chance, boy, does it impress you. And I have to confess that’s been the case at the Autocar India office too. The Syros hasn’t really been the one that all of us have clamoured for, but whoever has used it has only come away very impressed. And funnily enough, now that it’s leaving us, everyone wants to take it home. The classic case of ‘you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone’.

The Hyundai Alcazar, or as I like to call it, the ‘Creta Pro Max’, has joined the Autocar India long-term fleet. While it has been around for a while now, this is our first proper opportunity to live with it, use it like an owner would and see how it fits into everyday life rather than a tightly controlled test schedule. And in just the first few weeks, it has already been put through a fair mix of duties.

What stands out immediately is how distinct the Alcazar now feels from the Creta. That was not always the case, but with the updated design, the front and rear have a very different identity. The connected LED tail-lamps and the sharp LED DRL signature give it a more sophisticated look, and its longer proportions make it appear like it belongs to a segment above. It has presence, and in a city like Mumbai, where SUVs are everywhere, that does count for something.

Inside, the experience is familiar but well executed. The overall fit and finish is good, and the cabin feels solidly put together. However, there is no getting away from the fact that it shares a lot with the Creta, especially the dashboard. While that is not necessarily a drawback in terms of usability, it does take away from the sense of occasion you might expect when you step into a three-row SUV positioned above it.

Where the Alcazar begins to carve out its own identity is in the way it is configured. Ours comes with captain seats in the second row, and these have quickly become one of its highlights. They are genuinely comfortable, with enough support to make longer journeys easy, and they also make the car feel like a good chauffeur-driven option. Access to the third row is noticeably easier too, which is something that often gets overlooked in three-row SUVs.

There are some thoughtful touches here as well. The second row gets a sturdy tray table with a slot for a phone. It is strong enough to hold a laptop, and I did find myself using it as a makeshift workspace on a couple of occasions. That said, it stops just short of being truly practical for that purpose, as a slightly larger surface would have made it far more usable as a proper mini office setup.

The third row itself is usable, but within expected limits. It is not a space you would want to spend hours in, but for short trips or occasional use, it works well enough. What really adds to the Alcazar’s appeal is what happens when you fold those seats down. The boot becomes large, flat and genuinely useful. Compared to the Creta, the difference is immediately noticeable. In fact, during a recent house move, the extra space came in extremely handy, swallowing luggage and boxes with far less effort than expected. It is this kind of everyday practicality that tends to matter more over time.

On the road, the Alcazar has been easy to get along with for the most part. The 1.5-litre turbo-petrol engine feels strong and effortless when you are up to speed, and it handles highway runs without breaking a sweat. However, in typical Mumbai traffic, the experience is not as seamless. The 7-speed DCT can feel jerky at low speeds, and on inclines, there is a slight rollback before it moves forward, which takes some getting used to in bumper-to-bumper conditions.

Ride quality is another area where the Alcazar shows a slightly different character compared to its smaller sibling. At moderate speeds, it remains comfortable, but sharp-edged potholes tend to unsettle it more than expected. There have been instances where the suspension feels like it has been caught out, especially over the kind of broken patches that are hard to avoid in the city. You also tend to feel a bit more of the road surface inside the cabin than you do in the Creta.

That said, none of these traits have taken away from its usability so far. If anything, they are the kind of characteristics you begin to understand and adapt to over time. What stands out more is how easy it is to live with. It is spacious, practical and versatile enough to handle everything from daily commutes to more demanding tasks without feeling out of its depth.

Over the coming months, the Alcazar will continue to take on a variety of roles in our fleet, from city duties to longer highway runs and everything in between.

The first time we drove this generation of the Audi A6 (C8) in India was for our exclusive review that was the cover of the October 2019 issue of Autocar India. It was also the last time we drove it, which is crazy when you think about it. I know SUVs have overwhelmed the collective consciousness of our market, and that Mercedes, and more recently BMW, stole all the headlines (and sales) with their long-wheelbase offerings, but there’s no reason a capable sedan like this should have been left out of the spotlight the way it was. Luckily, now, six-and-a-half years later and approaching the end of its life, it has found its way into our long-term fleet, and boy had we been missing out.

The best example of this is that the A6 got a facelift sometime in 2024, and none of us actually noticed. There was no launch event; not even a press release. And this was more than just your average nip and tuck, as I discovered when this car was dropped off to us a few months ago. It’s subtle; the new front bumper looks sportier, as do the chunky black elements that replace the horizontal chrome slats inside the grille. But more impressive still is that Audi quietly moved up from 18- to 19-inch wheels (something I pointed out in the aforementioned review), and still managed to give it possibly the best ride quality in the segment. 

A bit more poking around led me to find other additions – soft-close doors, a fragrance that spritzes through the AC vents ever so often, and a duller shade for the open-pore wood trim. Oh, and 20 more horsepower. Yes, the badge still says 45 TFSI, but the EA888 2.0-litre engine is here in 265hp spec now, making it the most powerful four-cylinder in its class. It’s like an Octavia RS, only plusher.

As such, it’s turned my commute into the best kind of drive – equal parts performance and relaxation, as and when I choose. In any petrol car, I usually default to Eco mode – for the daily grind at least – so that the fuel bills can be kept in check. But the A6 has something called ‘Auto’ mode, which adapts in real time to your inputs, and though it sounds a little gimmicky, it is shockingly effective. Halfway through a press of the throttle, you’ll feel a subtle adjustment under your foot as the car cracks the whip on its engine. Conversely, like James Bond adjusting his tuxedo after clearing a room of armed guards, it can just as quickly and quietly settle back into a classy cruise.

I don’t usually spend any time in the back seat of any of my long-termers, but this time I did, and I’m glad for it. Apart from being colleagues, Sergius and I are also neighbours, so we often split driving duties, and on a few occasions, with more than just the two of us onboard, I’ve taken the opportunity to slip into the back seat. There’s nothing quite like a sedan for being driven in, and the A6 absolutely nails the brief. Rivals may have longer wheelbases, but this one still has a solid 2,924mm, and there’s more than enough space here. The seats are comfy, there’s four-zone climate control, and there are blinds for both the rear windows and rear windscreen.

As you may know, this car’s replacement is already on sale globally, which means this one is starting to show its age. Ironically, its vintage is the reason for some of our favourite things about it. A dashboard that’s trimmed in wood, metal and leather, not plastic. Some handy physical controls (although the touch AC panel remains a faux pas). A proper gear lever instead of a toggle switch. Clean and legible Virtual Cockpit dials; something Audi was the pioneer of. And ambient lighting that’s subtly integrated, rather than poking out of every possible crevice.

It feels like the last bastion of the last generation of properly built luxury cars, and saying goodbye to this long-termer feels like a farewell to an entire era. It felt good to see it parked up in my driveway every morning, better still to hear the almost sportscar-like starter motor whir to life, and all things considered, it was a soothing yet engaging car to drive. They won’t make ’em like this anymore.

Pune via the expressway in a big, comfortable SUV like the GLS is a breeze. It has enough diesel grunt to pull a train up the ghats, the sumptuous seats allow you to wind down, and with refinement levels Mercedes has pegged its reputation on, it’s like being transported in your own private jet. And then there’s its innate ability to effortlessly chew up the kilometres. The only fly in the ointment… the traffic on the ghat today is diabolical.

The journey had started well. Getting out on Sunday after an early lunch, with no traffic to hold us back, meant the big GLS made good time across the freeway and the 21-kilometre-long Atal Setu. And driving at a relatively high speed with the big diesel barely ticking over feels just great. Kudos to the OM656 straight-six diesel that loves to rev and is silky smooth; the 48-volt mild-hybrid system integrates seamlessly. It may not be as responsive as the earlier V6 diesel, blame ever-increasing emissions norms, and the power doesn’t feel as spiky when the boost comes in, but the extra dose of creamy smoothness is difficult to ignore.

What came as a bit of a surprise on the 10-15km diversion we took to the Nanoli stud farm and new race track, was that the big GLS didn’t take to broken roads as well as we expected it to. Large ruts and deep potholes did toss us around, and there often is more lateral movement – or shuffling – from the rear than you expect. What makes this massive 5.2-metre-long beast feel relatively compact, however, is the simply brilliant setup of the quick and superbly weighted steering. It feels like you are drawing the reins in tight and grabbing the SUV by the scruff, not necessarily in a rough manner, but firmly all the same.

On the way back from Pune after dinner, I swap to the rear seat. Plenty of legroom, big seats and good visibility; this is a great place to spend time. And since we are only three up, I fold down the centre armrest, recline the backrest, and really stretch out in the sumptuous and beautifully built cabin. There are three screens in the rear, but the GLS also gets something I value several times more, old-school Mercedes quality. And there’s that typical Mercedes hush too, with very little diesel clatter audible. And I love the soft pillows on the headrest. Unsurprisingly, I doze off and find myself back on the Atal Setu when I wake up. Must use the big rear screens and the headphones the next time around.

After a month with our long-term Windsor, I can see why it’s India’s largest-selling EV. Everyone in your family will love it, even if you, as the driver, don’t. Yes, as the one who does most of the driving, I don’t like it. Not because it’s laidback to drive; that’s fine for an everyday EV. What I hate is the driver controls. Connect your phone, and the entire 15.6-inch screen is given over to Android Auto or Apple CarPlay, even though nearly all functions like ORVM adjustment, cooled seats, drive modes etc. have to be accessed via the screen and a set of complicated steering wheel button presses. Even after you figure this out, it’s not intuitive at all. Hopefully it can be sorted with an OS update. 

Which brings me to another irritant with our particular car. We’ve had quite a few software related issues. For instance, the front left tyre would indicate low pressure even when that wasn’t the case, the music volume would randomly and suddenly increase, and most curious of all was that even after the car had been locked and had powered down, the system would reconnect to your phone and start playing music. MG was very prompt to send over a technician, and a software reset got rid of these gremlins. I was happy to take on the bug-free MG as a daily, and like I said earlier, it really impressed the family. As soon as you open the door, it wows with the amount of space inside. The seats look like an expensive sofa set, and there’s premium bits all around, like dark wood panelling and brushed chrome trimmings. 

My wife and kids loved the tufted seats and found them very comfy. At the rear, the cabin feels nice and airy, even with the sunroof shade closed. The reclining rear seats were also a hit with the kids, their only complaint being the single rear AC vent, which allows only one of them to get a direct draft. Later on, my wife realised you can recline the front passenger seat to create one continuous comfy lounge chair. I think it’s the only way she’ll travel now. Fit for a king and queen, as you can see from the picture (which I guess I need to explain). I’ve been a big Air India fan since childhood and have plenty of memorabilia. The Maharaja, though, has taken up a lot of space and exhausted my wife’s patience too. So, the MG was drafted in to transport it to the office, where I hope to keep it, or perhaps trade it with some other collector.

Coming back to the car, headroom at the rear is decent, and the flat floor means there’s less of a bother for a middle passenger. Plus, the seat is wide enough to seat three abreast, and there’s even a large 579-litre boot, which means airport runs are easy. So, as I was saying earlier, the Windsor may not win over enthusiastic drivers, but everyone else in the family will really love it.